


Heart-drops

by die_traumerei



Series: Castle Terra [16]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disabled Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Injury Recovery, Past Abuse, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Trans Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 14:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30073449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Short stories from various challenges, Tumblr ficlets, etc., all set in the Castle Terra universe.(Tags and ratings updated as stories warrant.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Castle Terra [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801759
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. Femslash February 2021, prompt: eyes

**Author's Note:**

> These are all stories that are short enough that I feel weird posting them as standalones! Updated sporadically, but mostly to get stories written for challenges into the series in a sensible manner.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment in winter, when Crowley and Aziraphale are growing old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T.

“Give it here, love,” Aziraphale said. “I might be an old lady but my eyes are still better than yours.” She slipped on her spectacles while Crowley surrendered the letters. Today was a wheelchair day for Aziraphale, her hip and back aching when she tried to stand for more than a few moments, so Crowley had run alone out to the guardhouse for a breath of fresh winter air, and to collect their letters. Old ladies they might be, both of them over seventy now, but she thought they were in pretty good nick despite it all.

“Yeah, yeah,” she teased, handing the letters over and settling on the end of the sofa, squirming as close to Aziraphale as she could get. This was not close enough, but it would do for the moment – they could cuddle properly later. Aziraphale had worked all morning, digging into oral histories and trade records to track down some things for Adam. It had been, well, a bit thrilling – Crowley helped her reach some of the books that were quite high up, but otherwise she just watched her wife's brain work, and went all silly inside. Aziraphale was so _smart_ , knowing exactly where to go to find what she needed.

But now was their reward: letters from beloved friends, and soon Sali would arrive with tea and cake for them to share. So Crowley curled her legs up, rested her head on Aziraphale's shoulder, and listened to her read.

“Oh, let's start with Asha's letter,” Aziraphale said, opening the hefty packet. It had only been a month or so since she'd written them the traditional Christmas letter, but that had never stopped them from writing novellas back and forth. It was a little easier to travel between their kingdoms now; one could even take a carriage. (Crowley was quietly pleased with this turn; she still loathed riding, and Aziraphale was getting so she could only manage riding for a few hours a day, and no longer for days at a time.)

“'My darling girls,'” Aziraphale started. “'I hope you're both keeping warm in that icebox of a place, and that you're keeping each other warm! My Cynth is here visiting from Lanhydrock, so I have someone to warm my bed too. She sends you both her love and affection...'” And so went Asha's happy tales of her own life in Gaia. She still maintained a stable of lovers as well as the deep loving friendship with Aziraphale and Crowley. She was very well, though worried about Elsie, as did they all; she seemed more and more vulnerable to illness, and her body was slow to fight it off.

“We must visit her soon,” Crowley said softly. “This summer.”

“Agreed,” Aziraphale said. “Asha will come with us, if I ask her.” They didn't mention that it might be the last time they saw their beloved friend; Elsie wouldn't be the first of their circle to pass on, but that hardly made it hurt less.

Crowley wrapped her hand around Aziraphale's and raised it to her lips, kissing her knuckles. “We'll have a brilliant holiday.”

Aziraphale smiled and squeezed Crowley's hand, and turned to kiss her temple, right next to her eye. “The best. I love you.”

“I adore you too. What else does she have to say, though!”

Aziraphale laughed and turned back to the letter. The rest of Asha's news was happier, thankfully; the new king in Gaia had ascended the throne and proved to be a good sort, and she was pleased to be working for someone less set in his ways. They were having an easier winter than usual, just as in Terra, and she was enjoying it thoroughly.

Aziraphale smiled a little wistfully as Asha recounted the hikes she was taking; she _could_ still go on long rambles, if she used walking sticks and was having a good day, but the end of that was in sight.

(Crowley made a mental note to get them both outside as often as possible; it helped Aziraphale, to keep walking as much as she could, and it helped them both to have their little adventures in the forests and fields.)

Eventually the letter drew to a close with warm reminders of love and affection, kisses to them both, worries over their respective healths, and yet more love; decades of it now, behind the sweet words.

“Gosh, no wonder she's got a gal in every port,” Crowley said, when a particularly tender passage left her blushing.

“That's my girl,” Aziraphale gloated. “I picked smart, for my first lover.”

Crowley laughed and kissed her shoulder before settling her head back on it. “Fine, brag about it angel! Who else wrote to us?”

Aziraphale smiled and opened the next letter. A shorter one from Stepan (and his wife, who Crowley had become very fast friends with over years of meeting at conferences and the like, and exploring various little towns and cities while their spouses did their Librarian thing); all was well there, and he mostly wrote about his research and studies, while his wife tackled the gossip of the court and enclosed a sketch of a new style of gown that had become quite fashionable there.

Aziraphale and Crowley appreciated the news, _deeply_ appreciated the gossip, and both pored over the drawing of the gown.

“Ooh, tits are in again,” Crowley observed, turning her head. These days anything she wanted to look at closely was best examined in her peripheral vision. An odd thing, but not too worrying; she could see everything else just fine. She could find her way around and gaze at her cute wife and the beautiful landscape and everything else as much as she liked, so she didn't fret losing more detail. Much.

“This looks _so_ much like my linen gown – remember that? It was practically see-through, with adjustable neckline?” Aziraphale asked.

“Oh, do I ever!” Crowley said happily. “Don't you still have it?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “In storage somewhere. Shall I get it out, come summer?” She laughed and kissed the top of Crowley's head. “Tie it just below my nipples, just for you again?”

Crowley slipped her hand around one of Aziraphale's breasts, and kissed her neck. “Please. No, really, please. It's such a thing of simple beauty, I want to see you in it again.”

“Well, all right then. It shall be done,” Aziraphale said peaceably. Of course her body had changed with age, but she was still really very proud of her bosom, and Crowley was...well, _Crowley_. She was highly...motivated. By Aziraphale's breasts. It was a useful weakness to exploit, honestly.

Aziraphale lifted one hand to pet the side of Crowley's head as she read their final letter aloud. It was from the new Librarian at Annwn. Eric had passed away suddenly a few months before, and there had been a bit of a scramble. Star was the result, and Aziraphale had _immediately_ demanded that Crowley, should she outlive Aziraphale, find someone just like her to take over at Terra. She was young and impossibly enthusiastic, wore bright clothes and did fun things with her hair, was brilliant and generally lived up to her name. She would transform the gloomy old Library there in the way that Eric never had quite wanted to do, and would help transform the Court too. It wasn't as stodgy as it had been in Crowley's youth, but Lucifer and his generation could only do so much.

Crowley and Aziraphale had travelled for the ceremony to welcome her to Annwn, and immediately been utterly taken with this sparky young woman, who confirmed for them that the Guild remained a hotspot of lesbian orgies in addition to an educational institution. Aziraphale had been having a hard time getting around and Star was as sweet and unobtrusively helpful as could be, and of course used Crowley's correct name and pronouns naturally. They adored her utterly, and a very happy, very lively correspondence had begun.

Aziraphale sipped from her water glass, the last letter done, and Crowley snuggled up to her side. They were both white-haired now, and Aziraphale rather liked it when she tilted their heads together, silver curls pressing their like. They loved each other very much. Couldn't ask for better than that, after all these years together.


	2. Femslash February 2021, Prompt: Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wakes from a nap, and gets a little more used to being cared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set right after the end of The Princess and the Librarian. Spoilers for the end of the story, although it won't exactly ruin it, I'm pretty predictable ;)
> 
> CW: mention of injury, stitches being (painlessly) removed.
> 
> Rated Teen

“Mmm. What time is it?” Aziraphale rubbed her eyes and yawned, sitting up a little. Of course Crowley was there; she'd hardly left Aziraphale's side since her riding accident.

“Time for tea and cakes,” Crowley said, moving to kneel by the narrow little bed and pet Aziraphale's hair. “Hullo, beautiful.”

Aziraphale giggled, feeling very cozy and also very lazy. What with her being off work before Christmas too, and being under firm but gentle orders to stop working lest she hurt or exhaust herself further, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had this many days with no work in a row.

She stretched, carefully, but her body was healing too. Of course her ankle and her head were the worst, but hitting the ground hadn't been any fun at all, and she'd ached from head to toe until...now, pretty much.

“Well, all right,” she said sleepily, and pushed herself into sitting up against her pillows, blushing when Crowley rearranged them and helped her settle more comfortably. “You fret too much!”

“I really don't,” Crowley said, and kissed her cheek. “And you will eat and drink, my lass. The physician's coming to take out your stitches soon.”

“Oh! I should dress, then --”

Crowley made a little _tch_ sound. “He's seen a woman in her nightgown before, angel. Better you stay comfortable, and stay in bed. Do you feel better?” This called over her shoulder as she went to fetch said tea and cakes.

“Yes! I'd bloody _better_ after two days in bed!” Aziraphale called after her. It was so silly! She couldn't put any weight on her foot yet, but she was quite good at crutching around by now, and it only hurt if she knocked against something, or accidentally stepped down. And with the splint back on, even a little bump was fine.

“Good, you'll feel even better after two more,” Crowley called back, irritatingly cheerful. One would think she didn't even mind having a girlfriend who could hardly do for herself! She was a _princess!_ All right, a very unusual one, but still!

Aziraphale's protesting squawk was cut off by the appearance of delicious-looking little cakes, all covered with pretty coloured icing, and of course a cup of strong tea. Her nap had done her good; she was napping most days now, and had to admit that it felt rather better to have the extra rest. It would be Epiphany someday, and back to work _truly_ after that, on two feet or one, and an end to these lush afternoon dreams, so she aimed to enjoy it while she could. _Quietly_ , although if you asked her, Aziraphale might not have been able to tell whether it was that she didn't want to give Crowley the satisfaction of enjoying Aziraphale taking care of herself, or that she was afraid to be seen as lazy and malingering.

But now was a time to rest, and she ate her cakes and drank her tea and giggled when Crowley teased her and teased and flirted right back, such that they were in the middle of a kiss when the Maester Physician arrived. (Luckily he knocked, and anyway they were at least a bit hidden in Aziraphale's tiny, carved-out bedroom.)

Crowley went to fetch him while Aziraphale tucked her bosom back into her nightgown and added a shawl for propriety, and tried to sit up and look more or less like she could be taken out in polite society.

The Maester was nearly a friend at this point, she'd seen him so often, and he was always so kind to her. This was no exception, as he settled in a chair by her bedside and took her pulse and felt her forehead, and did all the little things to ensure she was still ticking over.

“Is your ankle better at all?” he asked.

Aziraphale shrugged. “A bit. It doesn't ache so much, though I can't put any weight on it. Staying in bed seems to help,” she said, a little shyly. “I can move about now, though – I go between here and Crowley's rooms, mostly.” Stairs were doable, but no fun for anyone.

“Resting is truly the best thing for you,” he agreed.

“What if it's worse than a sprain?” Crowley asked softly, from her seat in the window.

“If she fractured a bone, it's about the same treatment, just longer, I'm afraid,” the Maester explained. “Nothing is out of place – I mean, if a bone was broken, it's all still aligned properly. Does that make sense?”

Crowley nodded, smiling a little. “It does. I broke my arm quite badly when I was young, and that was...I understand.”

“Good. And thank you for asking, Princess. I've had the same concern. But don't discount that sprains are funny things, and your body's working hard to heal a lot. It could be a few things, and the best thing you can do is rest and take care of yourself,” he told Aziraphale. “Don't push yourself where this is concerned; your body will know when it's healed enough to start bearing weight.” His smile grew. “Truly, though, you look so much better. How is the bruising?”

“Mostly gone,” Aziraphale said, mirroring his smile. The ugly bruise on her face had finally faded from faint yellow-green to nothing the day before. “The really big, deep ones on my hip and shoulder are still there, but they're not so sensitive to touch any longer. And I feel...better. Stronger. My body doesn't hurt like it did.”

She couldn't look directly at Crowley, the woman was smiling too hard. It was...overwhelming. Crowley really, really loved her, and sometimes Aziraphale had to just take a break so she could marshal her feelings, and get used to being beloved again. It was a little scary sometimes, and she was glad she had something else to focus on right now, to give herself time to breathe through the way Crowley made her feel. To remind herself that she deserved this; or, at least, that she didn't _not_ deserve a girlfriend who was kind to her and loved her.

“Wonderful,” the Maester said. “And your head looks well-healed; I'll take out your stitches today. It shouldn't hurt, but might feel a little funny, kind of a tugging sensation?”

Aziraphale nodded. She was very still, and breathed very evenly while he bent close to her. The snip of his scissors was loud in the silent Library, and Aziraphale did spare a moment of sympathy – Crowley was watching like a _hawk_.

She stayed still and quiet while he gently drew out the sutures; she was good at that, and anyway he was right, it didn't hurt so much as just feel really weird. The cut was small, and she only had a few stitches anyway, such that it was all over in about a minute.

She touched the scar at her hairline and smiled. “Thank you, so much.”

“Of course, Maestra. I'll leave you to it now, but please call for me if the pain in your ankle gets worse, or you're worried about anything,” he said. “It's absolutely no trouble at all to come visit you here, or in the Princess' apartments.”

Aziraphale smiled shyly, eyes down on the bedclothes. Sure the whole castle knew they were together, but gosh! “I will, I promise. I'm sure I'm getting better, though, just a little slowly.”

“Your body's been through a lot in your life,” the Maester said kindly. “It's allowed to take an extra week or two. Are you eating a bit more than usual? You'll need the extra fuel.”

Aziraphale laughed out loud – she couldn't help it, for Crowley had basically been stuffing little treats and nibbles in her face every time she was awake. “I am, I promise. You have a good minion for _that_ in that one, she thinks I'm a starving orphan or something.”

The Maester grinned and looked over his shoulder at Crowley. “Keep it up. All of it. You're a bloody good nurse, Princess.”

Crowley _preened_ , and Aziraphale knew she was doomed in the best of ways.

Lucky for her one of those ways meant, once Crowley had seen the Maester out, she locked the door, came straight back to Aziraphale's bed, and crawled in with her, hand already reaching between her legs, her clever fingertips bringing Aziraphale to a moaning, sweet little orgasm as the sun set and Crowley peppered her face with kisses. There were advantages to spending the day in bed, wearing very few layers.


	3. Femslash February 2021, Prompt: Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale fight, and Aziraphale spends the day fixing a mistake she made at work. It gets better, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of menstrual bleeding

It had been the most _awful_ day. Really, just utterly shit from the moment she woke up and groaned at the ache in her belly. Her courses had come on in the night and it looked like someone had slaughtered a piglet in her bed. She'd even got blood on Crowley's nightgown, and although she'd been kind and understanding...menses and Crowley were sometimes a hard combination. She never minded doing for Aziraphale if she felt poorly, and liked having sex with her, but it also was a reminder that she wasn't a biological woman, and didn't have menses, and it was...hard sometimes. It hit hard this time.

Perhaps that was why they'd fought over breakfast. Goodness knew Aziraphale couldn't remember _what_ they'd actually fought over, just that Crowley had sent her into a blind rage, and vice-versa, and they'd snarled at each other and Crowley had stalked off to do God-knows-what.

Not that Aziraphale hadn't been busy – the Chancellor had found a major error in some accounting she'd done. He wasn't angry, but it was clearly annoying, and she had been absolutely mortified. Maestra Librarians did _not_ make mistakes.

So any plans she'd had to spend the day cataloguing and maybe selecting an interesting oral history to read aloud were well scuppered, and instead it was now well into the night and she was still bent over the great ledger, very carefully chasing her error down and scraping out the incorrect figures, to be replaced with the correct ones. Her eyes burned and her back was fiery with pain, but she _had_ to get this done. At least she'd paused for a few minutes to wolf down a sandwich, so her belly wasn't completely empty.

Empty enough, though, and she took another break near midnight to send down to the buttery. Of course Cook was long in bed, but there were usually cold meats and cheeses, a few slices of bread and a cup of coffee to be had. A bit of food would keep her going; she _had_ to fix this. She had to be perfect. That's what she was.

She sat up and blinked, so she wouldn't weep onto the book. What a silly ass she was, crying over a mistake. She should fix it, and make sure it never happened again. That was what Librarians _did_.

“My God, angel, how are you still _working_?”

Aziraphale looked up and Crowley was there with a tray loaded down, eyes wide and worried, and it probably didn't help when she burst into tears.

“ _Angel_.” And there, that embrace. She could live forever in that embrace, as she cried into Crowley's shoulder. Her back hurt and her eyes were blurry and tired and she was hungry and she wanted to go to bed, and she wanted her girlfriend to love her again, and she was sorry for fighting and for bleeding and for being...her.

She somehow got this out, although was pretty sure Crowley only actually grasped about half of it. Sure, they were fluent in a common language, but _no one_ was fluent in Bawling Aziraphale.

“I missed that last bit, but I don't think I approve,” Crowley said. She'd sunk them down to the floor by Aziraphale's big desk and was holding her, her shawl wrapped around them both. “My love, shh. Listen to me. We're going to get up and sit by the fire and you'll warm your feet and sit in the comfortable chair and give that back of yours a break. You're going to eat something and drink something, and then you're to go to bed. No, hush. Aggie will survive another day, and are you really doing good work right now?”

“Yes, actually,” Aziraphale said and sniffled. “Look. I mean, quickly, don't give yourself a headache.”

Crowley smiled, looked, and conceded that even exhausted and worn out, Aziraphale did good work. “The rest of my point stands.”

“Wait – you call Chancellor Agincourt _Aggie_?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, he calls me hell-demon,” Crowley sniffed. “Old family friend, wot?”

Aziraphale gave up, collapsing to the floor again and laughing this time, feeling absolutely awful. “Crowley...thank you. I love you. I'm sorry.”

“Same back at you,” Crowley said. “Let me move the food and then I'll come get you.”

“I can bloody walk,” Aziraphale grumbled, and did so, and sure she was light-headed, but she got to her chair in the end, falling onto it with a sigh as something in her back released and Crowley put an absolutely huge ham and cheese sandwich into her hand. “Are you moonlighting as a kitchenmaid now?”  
“You think I'm good enough I'd get hired here? Really?” Crowley grinned. “I was fetching a bottle of milk, wanted to experiment with cocktails, when Rhodri came down with your order. You absolute moron, why are you still up?”

“I screwed up the accounting,” Aziraphale explained. “Badly. Well, one of those things where a small error propagates, you know?”

Crowley nodded, and poured her a cup of coffee, impressed when she gulped it down in about two swallows.

“This one's a doozy,” Aziraphale sighed. “The Chancellor wasn't angry, really, but it's not...it doesn't reflect well on me.”

“You're too hard on yourself,” Crowley protested.

“I'm not, actually.” Aziraphale closed her eyes. “I don't make mistakes, Crowley. Not in Librarian stuff. You've heard about my education. Perfection is trained into us.”

Crowley was clearly unimpressed, but held her peace. “So you're fixing your error. Why does it require sixteen hours of work at _once_?”

“Fifteen,” Aziraphale corrected absently. “So far. And it's...I want to impress.” She smiled and looked down. “And what else was I going to do? We quarrelled.”

“I'm sorry about that,” Crowley said. “Although. Um. Do you remember what we fought over?”

“Not a bit,” Aziraphale confessed, and laughed, and Crowley laughed too and got up and knelt before her, hugging her, resting on her lap and oh, she was so _good_. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I...bled on you.”

“My dysphoria isn't your responsibility,” Crowley said softly.

“No, but I still made it worse, however accidentally. I'm sorry, demoness.”

Crowley shrugged. “Are your cramps bad?”

“My back feels like twisted iron,” Aziraphale said, and knew that was it for work that day, going by the look on Crowley's face. She found she couldn't argue very much.

The rest of the evening was dreamy, the coffee doing nothing to keep her awake, she was that exhausted. Crowley led her over to the little bed, now freshly-made with clean linen, and helped her undress, and change out the rags she used to catch her blood. Crowley then made her lie down and rubbed her back, easing tense muscles. It was nice, but better was when Aziraphale rolled over and held out her arms, and got to hold Crowley in an embrace. She was soft and warm and smelled so good, and Aziraphale loved her. And she told her all _that_ , too, this time clearly and unmistakeably.

“I'm sorry we fought,” she murmured, half-asleep in the warmth and the care and oh, she was safe. And loved. “Thank you for forgiving me. 'n bringing me food. 'n loving me.”

“Silly dove,” Crowley whispered. “We had a little spat. Of course I love you, you're my angel.”

Aziraphale smiled. “It wasn't a bad fight.”

“No fight is so bad I'd stop loving you,” Crowley promised. “You're mine and I'm yours, and that's that. Go to sleep, you silly girl. You're beyond worn out.”

Aziraphale snuggled Crowley closer, and slept.


	4. Femslash February 2021, Prompt: Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they're gone, Aziraphale and Crowley are remembered, and their love is recorded for all time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castle Terra, set quite far in the future.
> 
> (I swear, I really didn't mean to write a story where the protagonists are dead for Valentine's Day! It just kinda...came to me.)

“Oh, bless you, it's perfect,” Adelia said. “You're a dream.”

“It's not _that_ far out of my way,” Star said, bemused. “Just a few days' ride, and I needed to borrow a scroll from the Caelis court anyway.”

“Also, you think Gavi is cute,” Adelia said.

“Also, I think she's cute,” Star admitted, and petted a small leaf on the climbing rose. “Can I help you plant it? Only, I knew them too and...I miss them.”

“Honey, of _course_ ,” Adelia said, touching Star's arm. “You knew them both longer than I ever did.”

“Yeah, but you're the Librarian in Terra now...”

“And you're the Librarian at Annwn, fair's fair,” Adelia said. “And you got the wild roses.”

Star laughed, and picked up the little pot. “And we're both too grown to be this silly. C'mon.”

Adelia picked up the bag of small gardening tools, and they went out together into the sunny summer morning, taking their time and enjoying the warmth as they rambled through the courtyard, waving to old Wat, and around the corner and down the ways to the shady, beautiful little graveyard.

Adelia had visited what was first Aziraphale's grave, then Aziraphale and Crowley's grave many times, of course. She hadn't known Aziraphale for very long, coming to Terra less than a year before she died, but she had been wonderfully fond of the old woman, and had enjoyed what time they had together, Librarians old and new. She had known Crowley a little better, had been tender with her as she mourned her wife until the day she, too, quietly passed away. It had been good deaths for both of them, and she liked to visit their shared grave and keep the headstone clean and things like that. It had been her idea to plant Caelish climbing roses over it.

(“After all,” she reasoned. “They were both of Terra in the end, but Aziraphale came from there, and I know Crowley loved visiting there, and was sad when they couldn't travel anymore.”)

Star had known them for much longer, if mostly through letters, but this was the first visit she could make since Crowley's funeral; her grief was still a little sharp. She knelt on the cool grass and cried a bit, touching the stone.

“Hullo you two,” she said softly. “I brought you something beautiful. Oh, I miss you both. I know you're together, but I do miss you.” She smiled when Adelia put her arm around her shoulders, and the two women hugged, and took a moment for sorrow and warm memories before getting to work.

“Were they really married?” Adelia said. “They always called each other wife, and they're written down as such, but I never found a record of a church marriage.”

“After a fashion,” Star said, digging a good, deep hole near the stone that marked their rest. “Aziraphale told me the story, it was really sweet! It was way, way back at her year and a day, they sort of...accidentally said vows, and the old Queen pointed out that they were pretty well married, and so they considered themselves.”

“That _is_ sweet,” Adelia agreed, freeing the climbing rose from its pot. “And wow, I know Crowley told me they fell in love fast, but that's _fast_.”

Star laughed. “Uh huh. Aziraphale had some kind of accident soon after she got here, and I think that really goosed things along, gave 'em so much time together.” She sat back on her heels and smiled. “I think we're ready.”

She and Adelia planted the climbing rose together, patting the dark earth in place, running back quickly the the farmyard to get some water and making sure that everything was neat and clean, their friends tended to.

“There we are,” Star said, and patted the earth. “Something pretty for both of you. I miss you. I hope you're well, now. I hope you're free of pain and together. I think that's what Heaven would be for the two of you.”

Adelia just smiled, and brushed a leaf off of the gravestone. “I think they are. It's hard to explain, but I _know_ they're together. Aziraphale said someone had told them once they had entwined souls, so I think they're together always.”

“Good,” Star said. “They've got all that, and roses now too.” She smiled at her friend. “Let's go for a walk? It's a lovely day.”

“Of course,” Adelia said, and helped her up, and so they left the graveyard, already laughing and chattering, while the new rose put down roots in foreign soil, and began to grow.


	5. Femslash February 2021, Prompt: Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After twenty years of marriage, there's not much Aziraphale and Crowley don't know about each other. There's one secret, still -- sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: vague, un-described mention of transphobic violence

“You've been married for what, twenty years now?” Elsie asked.

Crowley paused to do the math. “Something like that?'” she hazarded, squinting a little at the world.

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said. “Twenty-one years this autumn.”

“Awwwww,” Ilvis cooed, and got a hug from Aziraphale. “You're so cute.”

“ _You're_ the one that's good at math,” Aziraphale accused.

“ _You're_ more sober than I am,” Crowley accused right back. She was sprawled by the fire, her head on Elsie's lap, and was being petted and feeling really _quite_ smug about it. Not that cuddles from Ilvis were second-best or anything, just...she loved Elsie's bony knees under her cheek, and the way her fingers eased the tight bits where her hair was braided. So they were both winning, really.

“You must know each other perfectly,” Elsie marvelled. “No secrets or anything. I can't...I envy you.”

Crowley hugged her legs and turned to kiss Elsie's hand, to give her something she could feel. “It's extraordinary, to be so known,” she admitted, and Aziraphale nodded.

“Not that I'm any good about _not_ nattering on about myself,” she admitted, and smiled. “How long until I was telling you about my scar?”

“Like two days?” Crowley guessed.

“About a week, I guess. But it was a very _hurried_ explanation,” Elsie said dryly. “There were extenuating circumstances, though.”

Aziraphale giggled, and explained. “We had gone to a party and were about to fuck in a grotto.”

“I might win for longest,” Ilvis said, impressed. “I think Elsie told me just before you lot came to visit us and Asha in Gaia. But I'd known who you were before then, from letters and stuff.”

Aziraphale smiled. “You might, then.” She shrugged. “No point in keeping stuff about me from folks, you know? Most of what could be secrets – well, they're not hidden. And I don't care if people know I like sweeties or whatever.”

“I fully support that, it means it's easier to give you treats you'll like,” Ilvis teased, rubbing Aziraphale's belly. They smiled at each other and Ilvis kissed her forehead, and they spoke of other things.

Later that night, they were undressing, and Crowley was quiet. Aziraphale let her be, of course; no point in bugging her, and sometimes a body just liked to be quiet. They did have quite the peaceful little ritual, changing and washing faces and cleaning teeth and the like, and Aziraphale always braided her hair loosely to try and keep the curls tamed.

She wasn't terribly surprised, though, when Crowley rolled towards her in bed, her face just barely visible in the dim of night. There was just the _feeling_ that she wanted to talk.

Start with kindness, though. That was always best, so Aziraphale wriggled her arms around her darling and cuddled her, and kissed her forehead. “What is it, love?” she murmured.

“I do have a secret,” Crowley said quietly. “ _My_ scar...”

Aziraphale moved her hand to touch the odd, dark scar on the side of Crowley's face. A wiggly little thing, slightly raised under her fingertips. She had never asked after it, and never would. “You know that's yours to tell – or not,” she said.

Crowley smiled and kissed her. “I know. But I still feel...odd. Keeping things from you, in a way. But I can't...the words don't _come_.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said. “It was when you lived at home, though, right?”

Crowley nodded.

“Someone hurt you on purpose, didn't they?” Aziraphale asked, very softly and gently. “I mean, this wasn't an accident.”

“No, it wasn't,” Crowley said. “Um. This is good. To just say yes or no.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Good. The person who hurt you, was it your mum?”

A shake of the head.

“Your father?” Aziraphale asked gently, and Crowley nodded.

“Don't say anymore,” she said quickly, and pressed herself even deeper into Aziraphale's arms. “Sorry, sorry, sorry...”

“Shhh, shhh, hush. Hush, my dearest,” Aziraphale soothed. “You have nothing in the world to be sorry for, my brave girl. There, I know a little more than I did before, and we won't talk of it again.”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale simply held her, waiting for whatever she needed, to cry or be alone or make love or be held and cuddled all night. Whatever she needed, she'd get. Poor darling; to be hurt just for _being_! Aziraphale was going to protect her forever. She had twenty years down, and reckoned she'd have a lot more to go. Already Crowley had spent far more of her life loved and living as herself than not; it was a good start.

To her surprise, though, Crowley simply – fell asleep. And slept long and deep through the night, and so did Aziraphale, both of them hardly moving, so that they were still holding each other when they woke the next day.


	6. Femslash February 2021, Prompt: Cuddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there's no helping the bad thing you're going through -- but a walk and a cuddle and some love can make it so much easier to bear. (Crowley knew this already, but now she gets to learn it again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of a (mildly) life-changing injury

“Ow! Ow, shit --” Crowley bit back a curse, curling around her arm. “Shit.”

“Oh, love, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Crowley said shortly. “Just being stupid. Don't mind me.”

“You've been stupid before and I still mind you,” Aziraphale said patiently. “Let me see – where's your splint?”

Crowley sighed. “I thought I could leave it off. But even just putting on a jacket...”

Aziraphale frowned. “Your arm isn't healed yet, Crowley.”

“Yes, I _know_.” Crowley scowled. “I'm just sick of wearing it. I want to use both arms. And look pretty, and wear gowns that aren't short-sleeved and _augh_ how can you _stand_ me right now?”

“I can't, actually,” Aziraphale said, and her blunt words brought Crowley up short – and made her laugh. Fuck, her wife was priceless, even if she did kind of want to murder her just then. Stupid understanding kind angel.

“I'm sorry,” Crowley said. “I can stand myself even less?”

“Want to bet?” Aziraphale asked dryly. “Crowley. Your arm was badly broken. It's been a _month_. If you're going to not take care of yourself, that's on you, it's your body. But I'd like you to be gentle with yourself, and wear the splint so your arm can heal, and be protected. You're just causing yourself more pain.”

“It won't heal, though,” Crowley mumbled. “Not all the way.”

Aziraphale touched Crowley's chin, and made her look up and meet her eyes. “And you are _furious_ aren't you?”

“It's really fucking annoying how you know how it feels,” Crowley said.

“I don't. I didn't get angry like you did, not exactly. But you're kind of easy to read, love.” Aziraphale sighed. “I love you, Crowley, but we do not like each other right now. May I help you get your arm settled, protected so it can heal, and kick you out so that you can get some fresh air and I can do some work?”

“Er. Yes, please,” Crowley admitted, her shoulders slumping. “I'm sorry, angel, just...I'm sorry.”

“I know you are,” Aziraphale said, and kissed the top of her head. “I love you. More than I did yesterday, and I'll love you more tomorrow. However if you don't get out of my Library, I shall throw you off of a parapet, and you thought _one_ broken arm was bad...”

Crowley laughed again, a real laugh, and relaxed while Aziraphale fetched one of the many, many baskets they had courtesy the Infirmary. “I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to find you threatening bodily harm comforting and funny.”  
“It's because you know in reality, I'd throw myself off first.” Aziraphale said. “I really do wish I could take this from you, Crowley.”

“I don't. You've had enough hurt to last your whole life,” Crowley said, as Aziraphale got to work, settling her arm on a pillow and wrapping it first in a soft layer of linen, before settling the long wooden pieces of the splint in place, and then wrapping over them. She tried to ignore how there was a funny bend in her forearm, how it hurt, how it wouldn't ever go back to the way it was.

Aziraphale's hands were clever, and she made a beautiful job of it, even wrapping the linen bandages in a pretty pattern, leaving Crowley's fingertips and thumb free, but stilling everything from her hand to halfway up her upper arm. A sling to help bear the weight and remind her to keep still, and Crowley was ready for the world again.

Aziraphale helped her into a light, lacy shawl to protect against chills as the evening came on, one of her own. The pale colours were striking against Crowley's dark gown. It smelled like her, and Crowley was ashamed of how she'd acted, from taking the splint off on up.

“Go walk out in the sunshine and get some fresh air into you,” Aziraphale ordered. “I'll have a drink waiting for you, but you have _got_ to stretch your legs a bit. No wonder you're going batty.”

“And so you can get some work done?” Crowley asked, as Aziraphale walked her to the door of the Library. It had rained for the last week, and only now did summer seem to return. Aziraphale's limp was easing off at least; it had been a bit painful this time 'round.

“Possibly.” Aziraphale smiled and kissed Crowley, and touched her fingers where they stuck out of the bandages and the sling. “I love you. Come back here when you're done?”

“Promise.” Crowley kissed her cheek and took herself off to try and shake the...everything she was feeling. The pain and the being scared, the feeling bratty and frustrated and the sense of why bother, for they knew now she'd always have some limitations in this arm, it would always be weaker and couldn't move in the same ways, and would always look funny.

Well, maybe it made sense she felt the way she did, she reckoned, as she did what always helped best: to walk the castle and grounds she loved, to explore her familiar home and let the wind blow her red curls free and the sun shine on her and to stretch her legs a little, wandering the castle gardens.

The sun had set when she returned to the Library, having taken a little ramble well out of the castle grounds and well, it had helped. Her arm still hurt, but Crowley felt like a person. Possibly a person who owed her wife an apology, and she knocked softly at the door before letting herself in.

Aziraphale looked up from her desk with an expression of surprise. “Love! Since when do you knock!”

Crowley smiled at her. “Since I owe you an apology. Are you done work? D'you want a sherry?”

“What on earth are you going on about? And yes, I am and yes, I do.” Aziraphale cleaned her pen and took up the candle she'd been writing by, carrying it over to the little sitting area and using it to light a few lamps, a cozy glow in the last rays of the setting sun.

Crowley took care of their drinks and handed Aziraphale's her glass with a kiss. “I was unbearable.”

“You absolutely were not,” Aziraphale said. “I'm sorry – I was too harsh with you. Will you forgive me?”

“If you forgive me for being reckless,” Crowley said, and settled down beside Aziraphale. They weren't quite touching, sat side-by-side on a little sofa, but, well, The _option_ was there.

“Done,” Aziraphale said swiftly.

“Then done,” Crowley said, and finally gave up and rested her head on Aziraphale's shoulder, letting her wife cuddle her close. “I don't know why I'm ...like that.”

“You have a lot to process, all while you're in pain,” Aziraphale said gently. “It's not unexpected. D'you feel better though?”

“Uh huh,” Crowley admitted. “It doesn't fix everything. But it's...I can deal with it all now.” Aziraphale was so lovely and soft and nice to cuddle up to.

“Good,” Aziraphale said softly, and shifted so she held Crowley more firmly, and could kiss the wild winds from her hair. “If it's nice tomorrow, we should both go for a walk. The worst of my work is done now.”

“How's your hip?” Crowley asked, nuzzling into Aziraphale's neck, in between sips of sherry.

“Far better. Lingering soreness, but I think I'll be walking just fine tomorrow.”

“Good,” Crowley said, eyes fluttering shut as Aziraphale stroked her good arm. “I feel better too. Hurts less. You're a good nurse.”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “Am I? Good. I'm sorry you're having a rough time of it. The worst will be over soon.”

Crowley finished her drink and crawled fully into Aziraphale's lap for a real, proper cuddle. “I'm scared.”  
“Me too. Let's be scared together, we'll be stronger for it,” Aziraphale advised, and squeezed Crowley tight. “And be glad it was your arm and not your neck.”

“There is that.” Crowley found her mouth, and sipped two sweet, deep kisses. “God, I love you.”

“I love _you_. We're neither of us perfect, Crowley. But we'll get by.”

“More than get by.” Crowley smiled, now firmly ensconced in warm angel. “I can still finger you with either hand, after all.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale burst out laughing, and kissed the point of Crowley's cheekbone. “You!”

“Me,” Crowley agreed happily, and nuzzled the very softest part of Aziraphale, right under her chin, all while being petted and kissed and fussed over.

A walk and a cuddle wouldn't fix everything. There wasn't really fixing this, just getting through. But she would; and with even more cuddles, she reckoned, settling in in Aziraphale's arms, being kissed and loved and petted, and it helped. It really did.


	7. Femslash February 2021, Prompt: Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The promise of someone who would love their scars seems quite distant to Aziraphale and Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of major character injury, transphobia, but no detailed descriptions.

Aziraphale sighed softly as the doctor left, and closed her eyes. She hurt, even with all the medicines, she _hurt_ . Her hip and her leg and her belly were like fire, even with everyone being as gentle as they could. If she ever walked again, she'd limp. They couldn't promise she could bear children safely. She'd live, was about the best they could give her, and in the depths of her mourning heart, she wasn't always certain that was a prize. It hurt so much, and she was scarred now, changed forever, and it was so _scary_.

She didn't remember much about her time in hospital. And then she'd come here, and Madame was nice. Really nice. Aziraphale was learning that people were mostly nice to a fourteen-year-old war refugee with life-changing injuries and no parents.

(Oh, God, she couldn't think about her parents, not right now.)

She figured she was too pathetic to be anything _but_ nice to, but she tried to be very, very good and very quiet and not complain too much to Madame.

“Hullo, duck.”

She smiled, because it was polite and because Madame kind of inspired it. She _was_ so kind, genuinely.

“I'm sorry it hurts, duck,” Madame said softly, now stroking Aziraphale's hair. They both liked that. “I'm so sorry. Your poor body, there's so much still to heal.”

“And some things won't,” Aziraphale said softly. “What if I don't walk again? What if my scar is big and ugly?”

“Then we will deal with it,” Madame said firmly. “There's still a place for you in the world, love. And plenty who won't mind about a scar, or anything else.”

Aziraphale smiled a little. “Really?”

“Really. I promise. Someday you'll have a friend, or maybe a lover, and they'll think you're the best thing out there, scar or no scar. They'll love you _and_ your disability, just like they'll love you _and_ that pretty silver hair, and those big eyes.”

Aziraphale giggled softly. “You have a lot of faith in people.”

“I bloody _know_ people, miss. You listen to me.” Madame tapped her nose, and Aziraphale smiled. “Someday you're going to bring me home a girl who thinks you hang the moon, and I won't be surprised in the least.”

Aziraphale just nodded, and closed her eyes. The pain from the exam was easing, and they wouldn't have to change her bandages until tomorrow. She couldn't sit up on her own yet, could hardly do anything for herself, and even getting out of bed was weeks away. But she daydreamed a little, thinking of that someday-girl – or woman – who loved her. She wondered what she'd look like. Tall and slender, Aziraphale liked those girls. Pretty. Very smart. Good jokes. A girl who didn't mind Aziraphale's scars; that part was important, she reckoned. She'd have to be careful of that.

She drifted off, not quite dreaming and not quite daydreaming of that someday girl, all legs and big eyes and pretty hair, maybe curly like Aziraphale's. Kind. And the way she'd love Aziraphale, and Aziraphale's body, no matter what.

Crowley sat on her bed – _her_ bed! – and touched the coverlet. It was lovely and soft, and she looked up; her view was beautiful. The apartment was beautiful, really. Her home now, where she could be Crowley, and be safe. Welcome. The language was the same, everyone speaking Court Standard, at least. It was just everything else that was incredibly different, from the clothes to the food to the trees and the smell of the laundry soap they used here.

It wasn't that she was homesick, not at all. For one, this was home now, and she was glad and grateful. Auntie and Uncle loved her; they'd taken her in without question – her _and_ Chae! He was already a great stablehand, and would really grow here, she was sure of it.

She lay down on the bed, curling so she could look out the window at the sunset, and played a little with the fabric of her gown. It was made for her, tailored to her skinny frame, and she did love it. She loved her new corset too, and her hair growing out – Auntie had helped her put it up, to hide how short it still was.

She should be happy. And she wasn't _not_ happy, not exactly. No one was going to hurt her here, she kept reminding herself. She was safe. She thought it just might take a little bit to actually _feel_ safe.

Crowley hugged herself, and daydreamed. Safe. Wearing pretty dresses, being a lass. Learning how to princess. Safe. No one hitting her. And then, someday...a girl. A gorgeous girl who loved her, who would hug her the way Crowley was hugging herself. Who would laugh and kiss, and not mind what was between Crowley's legs. Who might...even think she was beautiful? Pretty enough, at least. And they'd hold each other and kiss, and she would stroke Crowley's back and help her keep herself safe. Never hit, never leave scars, never yell, not really. Be gentle.

Crowley smiled, eyes closing so she could better daydream. Tall and curvy. Pretty hair, pretty eyes, smart. She adored smart girls, not being very smart herself. Not too bookish, though; she liked to have fun outside, and a girl she loved would probably like that too, where they could go on rambles or even go riding, she guessed. She was to start learning to ride sidesaddle someday. Kind. She would have to be kind, above all else. Not too sugar-sweet; Crowley liked girls who were quick with a tease. But kind under it all. That had been her problem before, girls who weren't kind. People who weren't kind. That would change.

She hugged herself tighter. What silly dreams she had. But – maybe. Someday.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


End file.
